The Mission on Conziglria

Strange how the locals
can barely hide their disgust
at the symmetry of our bodies,
the shade of our perfect skin,
the straight-backed way we walk,
the sounds from our learned tongues.

It’s as if they see us as
the green-scaled pustule-faced
creatures that they are.
But we don’t awkwardly lope along
like three-legged dogs.
Our mouths don’t unleash a sound
like a buzz-saw crossed with a belch.

We were especially chosen
for this mission,
alpha men and women,
each an Adonis or Aphrodite
in the latest formfitting space garb.

And it’s no surprise
that we have such a hard time
looking at these gross, rank,
bulgy-eyed, tentacled, pus-secreting,
boil-headed monstrosities.

But our job is to communicate,
find common ground
with other worlds, other races.
And we can do it with our eyes closed.
Sometimes, we even have to.